


a yellow sky.

by snugglyduckling



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:32:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snugglyduckling/pseuds/snugglyduckling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which alexander hamilton is a storm, and john laurens and angelica schuyler are happy to be added to the list of fatalities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a yellow sky.

**Author's Note:**

> norah made me write this at 10:45 on a school night. i love pain and i'm dead inside

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine...

John's lost count of how many drinks he's had, however, it gives him an excuse to throw his arms around Alexander, ale on his breath, and laugh, as if this very event wasn't John's untimely demise. If the seemingly endless rounds blurred away the ring on Hamilton's finger, it would be worth tomorrow's sickness.

Still, even he must admit, marriage made Alexander radiant. The way he smiled at Eliza couldn't be paralleled by anything he'd seen, in the new world or the old. Alexander Hamilton was in love, that much was obvious. But, then again, he'd told John not too long ago he had no desire for a wife. "Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words to convince you that I love you." Yes, John kept that crumpled and worn piece of parchment on his person at all times (especially times like this). 

Admittedly, Laurens kept the thought in the back of his mind, even through all the rum, that perhaps Eliza was some kind of cover, that maybe Hamilton's affections still lied with his dear Laurens. Alexander was poor, Eliza was rich, and any attraction towards John was very illegal. But all of that was just wishful thinking, the love-fogged dreaming of a child, a young man deeply in love with someone who didn't, and never again would, feel the same.

It seemed as though Alexander Hamilton made everyone around him completely helpless-- Eliza Schuyler (or, rather, Hamilton), John Laurens, and Angelica Schuyler herself, the untouchable woman. 

Sure, they'd spoken, even more so once Alexander and Eliza caught each others' eyes. Angelica was an incredibly intelligent woman; she'd immediately picked up on the way John looked at Alexander, drinking him in as if he could disappear at any second. 

"You too?" she'd asked, at one of the many parties Mr. Schuyler had thrown to celebrate the engagement of his middle daughter. Her voice was sharp as she'd come up next to Laurens, slyly as a cat.

She'd shaken him out of his reverie, one of his constant daydreams dripping in Alexander Hamilton. A smile had played at his lips as he turned to look at her. "What?"

He'd earned himself a smirk with his dazed reply. "You don't do a very good job of hiding it, you know. You could get yourself arrested for looking at a man like that." 

She was right, of course-- it didn't take a well-trained eye to pick up on the intensity of Laurens' gaze. But, John could see it in her eyes too, the possession by Alexander Hamilton you wanted to acquire no priest to rid yourself of. "It sounds like you have some experience on the subject."

With a deep sigh, her brown eyes were directed towards the man himself, dancing with his wife-to-be. "Yes, I suppose I do."

And that had been the end of it, the beginning of a mutual understanding that Alexander was an unattainable necessity, a man the both of them had only gotten the pleasure of a flirtation out of (of course, that's only what he'd chosen to tell Angelica-- late night rendezvous in Hamilton's tent, the one not at all far from the general's, remained his and Alex's secret, and it always would).

Even now, as they celebrated Eliza and Alexander's union, John could see the same pain in Angelica's eyes he was sure was in his own, the pain of losing a part of yourself, or hearing that any dream you have has been deemed impossible. Although, John can't help but pity himself more (maybe that's why he feels himself drowning in more and more liquor by the second). He'd had the man in his grip (quite literally, a few times), their correspondences growing more passionate at every signature. He'd have never guessed it would be a rich broad with the very dark hair and eyes Hamilton himself had claimed to despise that would be the reason for his fall. 

It seemed like fate that he and Angelica were chosen to walk down the aisle together. They were both dead on their feet. In front of them lay not an altar, but a guillotine, manned by not a priest, but an executioner, sharpening his axe to reap two people, stuck in a life in which the one thing they desire most has been plucked from right under their noses.

John heard himself slurring terribly as he announced Angelica's speech (the poor woman has to celebrate her own misery). Embarrassment overcame him, until he realized Alexander was much too busy with his new wife to notice any of the flaws around him-- the man spilling brandy down his shirt, the couple obviously sneaking off to engage in something more active, his disgustingly drunken best man, or the maid of honor, whose speech was more shaky tears than words. Or perhaps that was only evident to someone who understood.

Satisfaction was not something John Laurens or Angelica Schuyler would ever know, certainly not when it attempted to entangle itself with Alexander Hamilton, a hurricane disguised as a man, a reckless and dangerous force of nature it seemed could only be anchored by a gentle, trusting, and kind girl by the name of Elizabeth. No, Angelica and John were condemned to unsatisfactory lives of loveless marriages and cross-continental relations, all the while being bystanders in watching the man they loved never stop to take a glance at anything but his Eliza.

It's no wonder John didn't fight back against the redcoat that killed him.


End file.
